“Get ready,” Corbin said to both of us as he bent forward while still driving one-handed. When he sat back up, he rested a gun on the dash. I put my window down and gunfire in the near distance had my nerves on edge. The acrid, rubbery stench of something burning that wasn’t wood singed my nose. Not far from the rutted drive, I noticed someone in the scrap piles of metal as we made our way toward the clubhouse, and it wasn’t anyone I knew. I fired that direction. There was a burst of gunfire from Jamie’s window and my heart almost hit my throat. At least five rounds went off in quick succession.
“Be careful. Don’t shoot any Kings.”
“The Kings wouldn’t be skulking like that bastard was,” he muttered and fired again. The van stopped in front of us, and I was out of the car fast, not sure what was going on, but I felt like a sitting duck just waiting for someone to spring out and spray the car with bullets. Jamie and Corbin got out, too, and then we bent low, almost like we’d planned it, and began forward together. Undertaker’s door snapped open and he raced away into the stacks of junk metal with a long, twisted blade clutched in his hand. King cautiously stepped out and had his own gun held ready. He turned until he caught sight of me and then nodded at Jamie. He gestured toward the stacks of metal and slipped onto one of the paths that wound through them.
“I know my way through the stacks,” I whispered. “Follow me.”
The scrap metal was like a maze, but it waspurposeful. When I’d first started as a prospect, I just thought King was lazy and didn’t want to actually process the teetering stacks of scrap, but the longer I’d been here, the more I’d realized they served a clear function. People had to go slow through them, so it was difficult for anyone to spring a trap on the clubhouse all at once, but it also gave the Kings cover. Yeah, it might give the Warriors cover, too, but they didn’t know their way around.
Carefully I followed the curvy path through the metal that I knew would lead directly to the clubhouse, with Jamie’s hand resting on the back of my neck. To my right, between two tall piles of scrap, I thought I saw someone’s shoulder. I didn’t hesitate, simply stepped around with my guns out. I brought my muzzles up between wide eyes and recoiled on the inside. It looked like one of the Warriors’ prospects. He wasn’t very old, had curly reddish-blond hair and lots of freckles. He dropped his gun on the ground. My adrenaline buzzed.
“Please,” he said. I ground my teeth until they hurt. There was gunfire from near the clubhouse. He had probably already let people know we were coming. Was anyone who’d been in there earlier still alive? I squeezed the triggers. The blasts that rocked my arms and the spray of hot liquid that splashed my face—Warrior blood—were almost simultaneous. Shock twisted the man’s mouth, and his legs gave out as he tumbled to the ground and rolled onto his back, arms flailing.
“Aye, good one,” Jamie said, stepping up beside me to stare down at the Warrior. He glanced at me, and I saw something on his face that was new—maybe respect? “Ya got the killing instinct in ya.” He rubbed his thumb over the back of my neck.
I shrugged. “When I need to.”
His cheeks flushed pink, and we both ducked as someone opened fire nearby. I hoped it was King and not someone ambushing him. I raced along the path, trying not to go so fast that I confused myself or lost Jamie and Corbin.
When we broke clear of the scrap metal into the small parking lot outside of the clubhouse, my stomach sank. Flames were the first thing I zeroed in on. The Warriors had rammed a burning car against the side of the house. They must have bashed their way through some bikes to do it because there were six trashed motorcycles on their sides on the lawn, including King’s baby. Flames bellowed out of the back windows of the vehicle, like maybe someone had stuffed a rag in the gas tank and lit it. The front end hadn’t caught fire yet, and that was the only thing saving the house from going up in smoke.
There was a man sprawled on the ground near the car with a hose in his hand spilling water, and from what I could tell he was likely dead because almost his entire side nearest us was stained red. The longer I stared, the sicker I became. Acid bit at the back of my throat and I swallowed hard. The man’s profile was too familiar. The beard. The skinny lankiness. Tears prickled my eyes.
“Aye, that’s a mess,” Jamie said quietly. Shots rang out from the rear of the house, but there were more piles of scrap metal back there, and it was likely Kings and Warriors were hunting one another.
Above us a second-story window burst outward and glass twinkled down into the grass below. Rogue leaned out with a huge rifle trained on me. I stepped in front of Jamie, but he fired. I closed my eyes and my entire body felt paralyzed. Shots rang out. When I opened my eyes, Corbin was pointing behind us. “There were men sneaking in,” he said loudly to be heard over the roar of the flames and other gunfire blasting off from nearly every direction. Rogue took aim from his window and fired again, his form confident in an impressive way. I glanced back at the ground and the dead man near the burning car. My stomach somersaulted as things finally clicked in my mind.
“Fuck, is that Tinker?” I yelled and sprinted forward.
Gunshots rang out from above me—Rogue again. Jamie grabbed me around the middle and took me to the ground. I fought him and tried to drag myself forward, but King bellowed, “Get down.”
Jamie dragged us toward the front door of the clubhouse as bullets shattered the windows on either side. I yanked open the door, and Corbin and Jamie followed me into the front hallway. I let out a cry as a baseball bat came flying toward my face, and only Jamie yanking me back saved me from a cracked jaw.
“Fuck, Hunter? Oh my God, I’m sorry!” Josh bent down to help me to my feet, his mouth twisted in guilt. His electric-green hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat. I yanked him into a hug and he was shaking. Rage like I’d not felt recently washed through me.
“Those fucks. Did they hurt you?”
Josh shook his head, and I gave him a tight squeeze before I let him go.
“They’re fucking everywhere,” King yelled as he ran through the door, his feet pounding the floor hard. Dallas was on his heels. I didn’t know where he’d come from, but he turned and took a knee, facing the door. Three men were briefly visible in the doorway, but King fired, and one of them let out a horrible yelp and fell back outside. The rest of the men disappeared from view again and no one else showed themselves.
Smoke stung my eyes and seemed to be choking me, and I cried out as it hit me that the air was cloudy. I raced into the barroom. The wall was dented near the stairs that led to the second floor, where the car had plowed into the building outside, and the cloud of nauseating smoke poured in through some holes where daylight was visible, and made it hard to even open my eyes.
“We have to put the fire out,” I yelled.
“King! We’re here! We got some on the way in!” Sapphira called happily into the front hall. “You should see what your Undertaker did. Oh, it’s nasty! I think those Warriors won’t do this again.” She stopped in the doorway and started coughing on the smoke that was making it difficult to see. I crouched to the floor and ran over to the sink behind the bar. There was a hose back here that we attached to the sink when we needed to take care of something really foul after a party, and I rushed to drag it out from a tub under the sink and hook everything together.
“What are ya doing?” Jamie asked, coughing as he came and hooked his hand on my elbow. “We need to go.” I shook him off and threaded the hose-fitting to the faucet on the sink.
“This was my home when I had nothing. I’m not letting it burn.” My eyes prickled with tears and I tried to pretend it was only the smoke causing it. He ducked down beside me and made a sympathetic face that had me embarrassed and paying extra attention to attaching the hose. I let out a happy yell as everything connected, and I turned the water on full blast. The window near the bulge in the wall was cracked. I had a plan.
“Josh, knock it out!” I said, gesturing to the broken glass as I dragged the hose that way.
“Oh, good thinking,” he yelled back and then coughed. He used his bat to smash the rest of the window. Sunlight and more smoke invaded the room. I was able to stick the hose out and blast water toward the fire. I sprayed down the car and aimed for the interior through the busted-out windshield. I leaned out to direct the water up and down the side of the house. The whole time there were gunshots popping off, and when I glanced past the burning wreckage I was making slow progress against, I saw a couple of Harlots chasing a Warrior into the scrap piles. I coughed, pointed the hose directly at the flames, and ignored Tinker’s body on the ground like everyone else did.
There was no doubt he was dead. Tears ran down my face. It wasn’t that I liked Tinker, but he was part of the club. He was a brother. And now he was gone. A piece of what I’d worked to protect was gone.
It took a long while, but eventually the fire went out, and by that time, Kings and Harlots were standing around watching me work. I climbed through the window onto the singed hood of the car and dragged the hose with me to spray down the hot metal at the rear. Smoke and steam rose toward the sky in skeleton-white ribbons.
